


Avatar: The Airbender and the Mercenary

by Arisprite



Series: Avatar Verse [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Supernatural
Genre: Airbenders - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Avatar the Last Airbender, Azulon is the Firelord, Castiel is an Airbender, Dean is an Earthbender and a smuggler, Gen, M/M, Pre-Avatar canon, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After failing his Masters exams again, Airbender Castiel is sent on a trip to trade with Zacharaiah, the owner of a vinyard and villa, for the Southern Air Temple. He's not good for anything else aparently. He only meant to secure the trade agreement for another year, but instead a thief named Dean drags him into an explosive adventure, and in doing so, he uncovers some of his own past, as well as a curiosity about this Earthbending robber he falls in with.</p><p>An Alternate Universe with the characters from Supernatural in the Avatar world. Set when tensions are high, Azulon is on the Fire Throne and the Hundred Year war is about to start. Can be read without having watched Avatar, I put in enough information I believe, but let me know if there are questions. The first installment in a series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sign hung crookedly from the tavern roof, swinging in the slight breeze from the North. The words on the sign read The H- -at, which could have read The Happy Cat, or The Hellish Splat. No one quite knew, and most just called it The Hat. It was among the thousands of taverns that dotted the Earth Kingdom countryside, standing proud as the most used building in the town. 

Dean Winchester, smuggler extraordinaire, huffed as he looked at the place. He tied the loose knot about Impala’s harness, more to reassure others than to restrain her, and patted her nose. The shirshu twitched the small feelers surrounding her powerful nose, and snorted, seemingly in agreement with Dean’s silent judgement. The place was a dump. 

“Even for a tavern...” Dean muttered, eying the spatters of mud high enough on the wall for Dean to wonder how they got there, and the sagging front steps. There was trash, and what might be a puddle of vomit on the steps up to the door, and the door itself had cracks that let out the yellow light. _Erugh... Why Bela ever chose this place is beyond me._

“I’ll be out soon, baby.” Dean said, patting her on the head again. She made a little whiny noise, as if she were saying not to take too long. Dean stepped over to the door, around the puddle, and kicked the mud off his boots -not that it would make a difference, it was unlikely the floors inside were any cleaner than the outside. He studiously ignored the little bending itch to just flick the dirt away with a wave of his fingers. The dirt always called out to him, be he’d become practiced on not acting on it, even though there was an ache in his chest whenever he did so. He gripped the hilt of the sword at his side instead. _Just like Dad taught._

Inside, Dean ran a skillful eye over the interior of the room. Much like any other tavern on a well travelled road, it was filled with figures from all four nations, some in groups, others alone like him. Bela wasn’t here yet, but he knew that already from the absences of her pretentious dogsled- her sleigh, or sometimes wagon depending on the terrain that was pulled by her team of ridiculous, soft haired chinchilla-wolves. Dean thought his shirshu, with her wide black stripe, and delicate pink feelers was infinitely more classy. Not to mention, she actually had a personality. 

Dean took a seat, and gestured for a beer from the server. The young girl blushed from his smile, but he didn’t put any real heat behind it. She was a little thing, probably working for her parents, and he didn’t go for the young ones. The woman sitting alone a few tables over, however, was just right. About his age, hair and clothing in Water Tribe style, and a flash in her eyes that Dean liked the look of. He made eye contact as he took a sip, and smiled into his tanker. She smiled back, and Dean was about to go over, Bela be damned, when a white furred cloak blocked his view. 

“Is that smile for me?” A posh accented voice asked, and Dean looked up into Bela’s cold smile. Every inch beautiful and controlled, she was a stately example of the best and worst of the Southern Water Tribe values. Which was basically a nice way of saying she was a major -but majorly effective- bitch. 

“Bela.” Dean drawled, raising his tankard slightly. “What brings you here this fine evening?”

She raised her eyebrow, still smiling, and took her seat. The server came over again, and blushed again at Bela’s wave of dismissal, so maybe it hadn’t even been him. Bela settled in the chair, and shrugged out of her furs. The blue dress was flattering in all the right ways. “Thank you for meeting me.” She said, coolly, as if she knew where his gaze had flickered. 

Dean lounged backwards in his seat, refusing to look anywhere but her blue eyes. Bela could play her games, but she’d called him here, and that meant that for the moment, he held the Pai Sho tiles. Bela was a competitor of his, one of the best in the business, if he was being honest. When Dean had gotten the message to meet, Dean had been a bit taken aback. Too curious to pass it up, and knowing that Bela worked at a higher pay scale that he usually did anyway, he came with his ears ready. 

“I was in the neighborhood.” Dean replied. 

“I need you to find something for me.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, and drained the last of his beer. 

“Now, what could I find that you can’t, Bela?” Dean asked, wiping his mouth. Bela curled her lip at his manners, but kept her cool. 

“Well, it’s not so much that I can’t find it. I know where it is, I just need a retrieval.”

Dean moved forward, rapping his knuckles on the wood of the table. 

“Hell no, sister. I don’t do that anymore.” 

Bela rolled her eyes, and poked her long nail against his knuckle. 

“I know all about your promise. Going straight, but not too straight are we?” Dean kept silent, and let her talk. “Well, you’ll want the first look at this piece, I promise you.”

Dean jerked his hand out from under hers, and leaned back, folding his arms. 

“Why’s that?” 

Bela smiled. “You want to find your father, don’t you?”

Dean tried to keep his face still, stop his shoulders from hitching up to his ears, but he’d never had as much of a stone face as his father or brother. Ironic, since he was the earthbender of the family. Bela’s smile widened, and Dean inwardly swore. 

“What do you know?” Dean asked, reluctant. 

“I know you’ve searched for months. Even your sniffer creature has had no luck. You’re all out of leads.”

Dean looked away, his eyes bouncing from the other occupants of the tavern distractedly. The noise and dimness of the room hid his swallow, he hoped, but the facts _hurt_ to hear. Bela was right. Before the messenger hawk had found him, he’d been about to go back to Sam, back to the Fire Nation, where he’d sworn he’d never go again, and tell him about Dad. How he was missing for months before Dean could even find one lead, and that that lead had quickly dried up, and Impala couldn’t find a trace of a scent. The only thing keeping him from thinking his dad was dead was that he knew how to hide from a shirshu. He was alive. He had to be. 

“And you’ve got something that says I might be mistaken?” Dean asked, knowing Bela could see the eagerness on him. This is why he tried to stick with cargo. No one reading a too open face, dammit. 

“Not yet.” She said, tasting the words like a fine sake. Dean growled. 

“Alright.” She had him, and they both knew it. “What and where?”

Bela leaned forward, unfolding a parchment from inside her sleeve, and spreading it out. It was an ink drawing, of a large stone on a chain. The drawing was detailed enough to see the metal etchings that looked Air Nomad in origin. 

“The particulars are these. The item is a rare spiritual artifact, a necklace that belonged to Guru Morik.”

“What’s it do?” Dean leaned a little closer to the parchment, examining it closer. It looked...actually fairly ordinary. 

“One, it can be used to locate anything that has been lost, and two it is worth a heavy price to one my buyers. I want it for the second reason, but I’m willing to trade the effort for the first.” 

Dean nodded as she finished, trying again to hide his leap of hope at this news. 

“And where is this artifact?” 

“It belongs to a man named Zachariah.” Bela continued. “He keeps it in his plantation villa, on an island in the Fire Nation.”  
Dean felt a rush of ice down his neck at that. He didn’t go to the Fire Nation, that was in his terms, plain for anyone to see. That Bela was asking that now...

She’d seen his shake of the head, and huffed. 

“I know you don’t like the Fire Nation, Dean, but there’s no one else who could get in like you can. It’s not even very far into the Fire Nation territories. You’ll be fine.”

Against his will, Dean _was_ drawing up plans in his mind. Where to leave Impala, how to get there...it wasn’t his first burglary. He was good. Very good, but he preferred to get the stuff handed to him lately. But, he hated going back there, and in all his years of travel, he rarely needed to. It hadn’t been a problem to any of his clients; there was plenty of illegal trading to be had over the Earth Kingdom. No need to go back to where painful memories abounded. 

But, if this worked, he could find out where his father was. He could return to Sam with a lead, rather than as a failure. Bela, damn her, knew that. 

Dean clenched his fist under the table, and used the other one to take hold of the parchment. 

“Okay, I’m gonna need the details; floorplans, guard lists, everything you’ve got, capice?”

“You’ll do it.” Bela didn’t ask. Dean breathed out a controlled huff. 

“Yeah. Draw up the contract though. I don’t trust you as far as Impala could toss you.”

“Likewise,” Bela smiled wider, real for perhaps the first time tonight. “Alright, you’ll have it all.”

\-----

“I’m sorry, Castiel. You just didn’t pass.” 

The words cut through him like a knife. Monk Metatron, his face cloyingly sympathetic looked up at him from his perfect lotus position. Castiel stood in front of the council of Elders and listened, gripping his staff. Metatron went on to expound on how close he’d come this time, and that someday he’d come a master like everyone else, and that he was really not as bad of an airbender that everyone said he was. The itch of hair on his scalp and unmarred skin on the back of his hands said differently. 

He was a bad airbender. The oldest in the temple without his tattoos, and everyone knew it. Metatron knew it too, smiling at him with a smug face. The rest of the council looked on with varying degrees of sympathy or disdain for the failed airbender Castiel. Monk Gyatso gave him a small, sad smile. 

Trying not to grind his teeth, Castiel bowed formally.

“Thank you for the chance to try again, Elder.” Castiel said to the ground. Metatron rose, and put a hand on Castiel’s hair, just because he could. 

“Not everyone reaches Master’s level, Castiel. You do good work without it.” 

Castiel straightened, forcing Metatron’s hand to fall to the side. He nodded. 

“I take my leave.” 

Metatron gave a wave of dismissal, and Castiel left the chamber, a tightness in his chest that he said was simply disappointment.

_You thought you could do it this time, didn’t you? Castiel scolded himself You are too hasty, too impetuous, too unrestrained. You will never be an Airbending Master._

Castiel sighed, and turned towards the open window, rubbing his eyes. It had always been his problem. He just didn’t make a good monk, and he had only completed thirty five of the thirty six tiers of airbending. His only other option was to create a brand new airbending form, and though he’d racked his brains, he was blank. 

Perhaps it had something to do with his upbringing. Unlike many of the children raised in the temples, Castiel could remember a time before it. When he’d worn simple yellow travelling clothes, instead of his saffron and scarlet robes, and his mother cradled him and his sister on her lap. He’d been born to a nomadic family, unwilling to let go of the love they had, and divide to the various temples. His first experience airbending was playing with his older sister Anna, not learning at the feet of the monks. It wasn’t until there was an attack on their caravan, that he and his sister were left to the mercy of the temples. Anna was sent to the Eastern Air Temple with the rest of the women. And Castiel was left in the Southern. He had no idea what had happened to his parents at all. 

A few years after that, he’d gone to the Eastern Air Temple to see Anna -visits were allowed, he’d checked- to be told that she had vanished. Months ago, and no one had told him, or done a thing to look for her.

What followed was almost a year of desperate combing of every nation, trying to find her. He’d had no luck.

And now, even more years later, he sat curled in the corner of a window of a home that had never felt his. Castiel felt an emptiness inside that had only ever been filled by his family.

_I’m a monk. I have no family. Only freedom._

It never felt complete. 

 

“Castiel!” A voice startled him out of his thoughts, and Castiel looked up. It was Balthazar, his tattooed head gleaming in the sunset light from the windows. He came skipping up to him, and Castiel felt his heart lighten in spite of himself. Balthazar was always good for cheering him up. 

“Hello, Balthazar.” Castiel greeted him, uncurling from his position a little. Balthazar smiled, and ruffled his hair -an endlessly amusing thing for him, since Balthazar hadn’t had a full head of hair since he became a Master as a teenager. 

“Hey, Cassy.” He leaned against the side of the window, still smiling. “Are you brooding out here for any particular reason, or...?” 

Castiel sighed a little, looking out the window again. The sun was bright, and reflected off the sea as it descended. It made Castiel squint. 

“I tried again today.” He said flatly. Balthazar's face fell. The sun chose that moment to disappear behind the horizon line with a flash of light, and then leave the world grey. It fit his mood. 

“Still didn’t make it? I’m sorry, darling.” He said, and Castiel was grateful for the genuine sympathy from him. Most of the other air benders were indifferent or pleased that he kept failing. He was the example used for the children. _Do your practicing, or you’ll end up like Castiel._

His thoughts swirled, and Castiel hunched his shoulders in what could have been a shrug. 

“I need to meditate.” He muttered, rising from the window sill, and grabbing his staff before it could fall. Balthazar rose with him, and put a hand on his shoulder. Castiel stiffened, but didn’t shake it off. 

“Don’t tell me I’ll make it next time. Just...don’t” 

“Of course not. I’m just coming to meditate too.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him, and Balthazar laughed lightly, raising his hands in defense. 

“Hey, I’m feeling a sudden imbalance in my spirit. Nothing to do with you at all. Goodness, Cassy, don’t be so self-centered.” 

A smile cracked his face, and Castiel breathed a little deeper. 

\-----

Meditation, as always, calmed Castiel’s mind greatly. It was the one tenant of airbending that actually did come easier to him. The spirit world always seemed so close when he was sitting, and just breathing. He even imagined that sometimes his mother was watching over him, the gentle breeze became her touch, and he would send the breeze to wherever his sister was, to keep her safe. 

His limbs relaxed, and his earlier anger fading, Castiel rose, going out into the gardens to savor the peace he’d found. He loved the gardens. The insects and plants were a balm to his soul. Balthazar trailed along, not for any particular reason he said, though Castiel did wonder when he was supposed to be getting back to his students. 

It was quiet, until a young monk ran up. Too young for tattoos, he still had his head shaved proudly, awaiting the day. Castiel had given doing that up long ago. He smiled widely, and bowed at them both. 

“Monk Joshua wishes to speak with you, Airbender Castiel.” He said, using the technical title in the place of the empty space he usually got in front of his name. Castiel nodded to the child, and turned back to the complex. 

“Thank you for the message.” He replied, and then looked back. “Balthazar?” 

Balthazar smiled, and shook his head. “I really should be getting back to my students.” He held out his hand for the child’s. 

“Come along, Aang.” 

Aang took Balthazar’s hand with another wide smile, and Castiel envied the ease in affection that both his friend and the boy had. Forcing a smile, Castiel bowed them both a farewell, and went to find the Elder. 

While Joshua wasn’t on the council, he was one of the most renowned and old airbenders at the temple. He preferred to spend his time in the gardens, or the greenhouse, tending the fruit trees, and what plants they could coax out of the ground, rather than deal with the politics of temple affairs. It was the greenhouse that Castiel turned to now. 

The greenhouse was a feature unique to the Southern Air Temple. The building was small, with thick fire bent glass in panels across the whole of the roof, and three sides. Up in the chill of the mountains, it was one of the only places that was consistently warm. Castiel spent a lot of time in there when he was younger. He’d been born on the plains, and the high altitude still bothered him somewhat, even through the bison wool of his robes. 

Opening the door, Castiel relished the waft of damp, warm air, and the smell of soil and plants that came to his nose. 

“Joshua?” Castiel called out, and towards the back, tall plant fronds and leaves began to move. Coming forward, Castiel smiled to see Joshua shuffling towards him. The old man was bent in the back, but his eyes were bright, and the airbending tattoos stood out against his dark skin. 

“Castiel,” He smiled, tottering forwards. Castiel returned the smile, and bowed. Joshua bowed too, deeper than he needed to. 

“I was told you were looking for me?” Castiel said, and Joshua nodded, turning back to his plants. He picked up a watering can, and held it out to Castiel, before crooking his finger. Castiel followed where Joshua directed. 

“Yes, I was. We were thinking of our grapes, and I said, Castiel is the perfect man for the job.”

“Grapes?” Castiel asked, tilting his head. He poured a stream of water on the stalky plant Joshua pointed at. “Our grapes are fine.” 

“Oh, I know. The Elders and I need to renew our contract this month, in order to keep those lovely grapes coming in.” Joshua let go of the plant he was holding, narrowly missing whacking it against Castiel’s bucket, and moved on. Castiel followed, pouring water in each pot. 

“So, who has these grapes?” Castiel asked, and Joshua crinkled his eyes at him. 

“You are good at trade agreements, so I suggested you go to Zachariah’s villa.”

Castiel was often assigned to travel out and speak to people all over the world to arrange business offers, and trade agreements. He enjoyed the chances to get out of the Temple, and see the world. He liked helping his people. And he could use the distraction at the moment. Joshua probably knew that well-the elders were all incurable gossips. 

“What are the details?” Castiel asked, and Joshua explained. Zachariah was a powerful man, who answered to even more powerful people. This account was important, and Castiel was warned not to screw it up. Zachariah ran a vineyard on a volcanic island, called Angel’s Isle, and was expecting Castiel in a few days. The grapes he grew were known as some of the best, and the Elders were excited to make the deal. 

Castiel smiled a little wryly. He thought he knew the reason he’d been asked to take this assignment. The Master’s probably wanted him off the temple grounds, to stem any moping he’d do at not passing. Well, they weren’t entirely wrong. A distraction would be good. And Nona would love him for it. His sky bison was one of the fastest, and he would be glad to let her get some exercise. She’d been stuck on the mountain for a while now, as he studied up (uselessly, turned out) for the Master exam. 

Also, the Fire Nation was a big draw.The warmth and culture of the island nation was one of his favorite things in the world, and suddenly, Castiel was craving some fire flakes. 

“When do I leave?”


	2. Chapter 2

The villa Zachariah owned was lavish, Dean thought from atop Impala. 

_I mean, what kind of douchebag called his house a villa? Or calls himself Zachariah? It would most likely be all kinds of pleasures to rob the guy._

Impala sloshed ashore on the far side of the island, out of sight from the guards, but he could see the extensive roof tops, and the spread of vines laden with grapes. Well, whatever else he could say about the guy, he was doing well for himself. 

Dean led Impala out of the sea water, and began rubbing her down with his cloak. After weighing other options, he’d reluctantly concluded the best way in and out was to swim it. Impala could cross the distance, but that didn’t mean she liked it, or that he liked making her do it. But, this job...

_With this job, I could find Dad. I can get our family back together._

The shore they’d landed on was carefully chosen from Bela’s maps of the island. In the crags at the foot of the volcano, behind tons of rocky outcrops and caves, was the perfect hiding place. Impala, well used to these kind of missions, hunkered down in the shadows of a cliff. Her sand colored fur, and black stripe blended well, and Dean knew she’d be safe there until he came back. He still ran a loving hand over her neck before he left. 

“Stay safe, okay baby?” He murmured, barely heard over the sound of the surf. 

It was nearing dark, but the sun was still shining low in the sky, as Dean crept closer to the villa. Dressed in his dark clothes, he really should wait until full night before moving, but he didn’t have that kind of time. He was a good scout regardless, and no one saw him. He, however, saw everything.

The mountain’s lower hills carried the fields of grapevines that Zachariah had made his fortune off of. The sun also illuminated the real work that made those fortunes possible. A line of workers, dressed in rags and carrying tools of the field walked from the vineyard towards a small village of ramshackle homes. Dean wasn’t surprised; Bela had mentioned slaves. Even though they were technically illegal, Firelord Sozin tended to look the other way when his wine was being poured. 

Dean distanced himself from the workers, and came closer to the actual villa. The place was an ornate as it had looked from a distance.

There was a rumble as a sky bison landed in the courtyard. A lone airbender dismounted, his or her bright robes visible even from this distance. Good and bad, company was a good distraction, but it hadn’t been in the plans he and Bela had drawn up. Ah well, improvisation was a specialty of his. 

As Bela had said, the man was very important. Which meant there was an extensive security system. It was run by a man named Uriel, a firebending master. He had a team of guards, and lookouts in every corner. They were supposed to sound a coded alarm anytime they say something. Thanks to Bela, he had the codes, and the locations of each of the lookouts. His first step was to replace the closest lookout before the call was raised. 

As the sun set, Dean crept closer to the side wall of the villa. The closest guard was positioned on the ground floor, and he was facing almost directly west. It was like taking a toy from a child. 

“Evening, sir.” Dean said, standing directly backwards to the orange glow. The man, a young one too, squinted, trying to figure out if he should know the person who’d appeared out of the sun. 

“Who-?” 

Dean moved quickly, and with a whack on the head, and then a poke to the neck that he’d learned from a frisky chi blocker, he dropped the man without a sound. Checking that the muffled _fumph_ hadn’t been heard, Dean dragged the guy inside the house, stashing him inside a closet that Bela had pointed out to him. He stripped him, and thanked Agni, Tui and La that he was close to the right size, and donned the guard outfit. 

Then, he stepped back outside and into place, with no one the wiser. Now, all he had to do was wait. 

\----

“Ah, and here is our fine young airbender.” A voice announced as he entered the dining room. Castiel had arrived only moments ago, and was told he was just in time for the evening meal. Granted, his timing could have been better, but Castiel definitely would have preferred the chance to freshen up in the privacy of a bedroom. He was sure that his hair was a kangaroo-rat’s nest from the whipping winds. This was the true reason that airbenders shaved their heads, he was sure. 

But still, manners would ever be required. 

“Thank you for the warm welcome, Lord Zachariah. I’m Castiel.” Castiel said, bowing the airbender bow of respect. The man who’d spoken bowed back, smiling slickly. He was a small man, with a white top knot and scraggly whiskers that reached to his round belly. He was impeccably dressed, and Castiel felt conscious of his messy hair and baggy robes anew. 

The room was filled with the lights of just lit lamps, and the fading sunset. Several servants scurried out of the room as he watched. He got the feeling that he’d either arrived too early, or too late. 

“Please, sit.” Said Zachariah, and Castiel pulled his eyes away from the room, to see him gesturing grandly at the table. There was food already spread. Hot seed breads, piles of grapes, lychee nuts, and steaming beans set him salivating. He’d had his dried fruit for an earlier meal, but this looked amazing. There was also spreads of meat, for the others, but Castiel appreciated the selection that was available. Not all his hosts did his beliefs the same courtesy. 

“Thank you,” Castiel replied, and sat where a young boy laid a kneeling pillow. He nodded to the little one, but he backed away quickly. 

Zachariah pulled out a napkin, and gestured for the servants to begin. 

“I appreciate you’re coming to join me for the meal. Castiel, wasn’t it?” He said, taking some food of his plate while the server was still ladeling things on. Castiel nodded. 

“I’m grateful you were able to meet with me on such short notice.” Castiel said, watching the servant scoop some beans onto his plate. Then the boy forked a piece of the meat, and Castiel felt a jolt of alarm. Did he mention it? Stop the child? 

Zachariah, however, took it out of his hands, and slammed a hand down. 

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?!” He yelled, and the boy jerked back, dropping the slice onto the table cloth. The drippings soaked a greasy puddle. “Our guest is an airbender! Does that mean nothing to you? Get out of my sight!” 

The boy ran. Castiel sat frozen in his seat, his eyes locked on the door the boy had run through. 

“I’m sure he meant no harm-” Castiel started, feeling guilty for the boy’s plain fear. Zachariah sat down again, and picked up his chopsticks, as if nothing had happened. 

“I won’t have such disrespect in my servants. He will learn his lesson after tonight.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows, fingers gripping the bamboo of his chopsticks tightly. 

“You’ll have him punished?”

“He will remember that you’re our guest.” 

Castiel opened his mouth, to try and protest again, but Zachariah waved a hand. “The matter is forgotten.” Castiel almost thought he heard an unspoken _or else_ , after the statement.

After finishing the meal, which after the upset sat a bit heavily in Castiel’s stomach, the servants cleared away the dishes and brought out tea. Castiel drew in a breath of his chai, enjoying the spice and fortifying heartiness. Zachariah smiled, and set his cup down after only one sip. 

“Now, what can I do for the Air Nomads, Castiel?” 

Castiel reluctantly set his cup down as well, and folded his hands in the sleeves of his robe. Sitting up a little straighter, Castiel adopted his most business like persona. 

“I represent the Southern Air Temple. I’ve been authorized to renew the contract between our peoples.” Castiel said. Zachariah was smiling as he talked, and Castiel felt a frisson of distrust run down his spine. 

“I do like the sound of that, Castiel.” Zachariah said, leaning back on his heels. “The current deal is fine on my side. If your temple has any troubles, I’m sure a suitable arrangement can be made. What I’m also interested in is why they sent you?”

“Me?” Castiel frowned. Zachariah raised his eyebrows, clasping his hands together at his front. 

“An untattooed airbender isn’t something you see often, now, is it?”

Unbidden, a heat rose in Castiel’s cheeks, and he narrowed his eyes. 

“I am here on the authority of the council, sir. Now, if we could get back to business?” Zachariah raised his hands, appealing and dismissive at the same time. 

“Apologies, apologies. You just make me curious, that’s all.” 

Castiel resisted the urge to shift his shoulders, and try to break out from under that strange gaze. 

“I assure there is nothing curious about me.” Castiel said, stiffly. Zachariah tilted his head, just a little bit, and somehow managed to look like some pompous bird while he was doing it. 

“On the contrary, I think I’ll find you most intriguing.”

Fighting his unsettled stomach -not even working with Crowley, the least honorable person he knew, gave him such jitters, Castiel finished hashing out the details of the contract: Zachariah would continue to send a small percentage of the grape harvest, while the Air Temple would ship over money in payment. Relieved to be finished, Castiel rose from his knees, and went to take his leave to follow the servant to the guest bedroom. As he was doing so, man came in. Large, dark skinned like he was from the far south. 

He looked strangely familiar. 

He leaned over and spoke with Zachariah, while Castiel was leaving. It was only because he’s paused for a split second that he heard what the man said to his host. 

“Sir, there was a disturbance in the slave quarters.”

Zachariah murmured something back, but Castiel had backed back into the room, and was frowning hard. 

“Slaves?”

Zachariah suddenly looked furious, before he pasted it over with a broad smile. 

“Slaves?” He laughed, “What are you talking about?”

Castiel’s heart was racing, and he thought of the small frightened children who’d tended to the dinner, the implication that the boy who’d almost given him the meat would be punished severely, the strange unease that had plagued him all through the meal. 

“You keep slaves? That’s illegal!”

Zachariah laughed shortly. “There’s no objection to it around here, boy. There’s no call to be upset.”

Castiel was filled with disgust at this little man who brushed off owning people like they were cattle. He got a sudden sick feeling as he realized that there was no way that the airbenders in the temple would want to be associated with this sort of business. This deal would not work. 

Lifting his jaw, and curling his lip to show as much of his revulsion as possible, Castiel glared down at Zachariah. 

“We’re done here. There will be no arrangement. The temple refuses to be a part of such dealings.”

Turning on his heel, he walked out of the room. The sound of Zachariah’s sputtering was lovely to hear. 

\----

It was only once full darkness had fallen that Dean moved from the spot he’d appropriated. The bugs were clicking in the warm night air, and the house behind him was quiet. It was only just passed dinner time, but according to Bela’s notes, and Dean’s gut, Zachariah would be enjoying his post dinner tea. It was a far more likely time for the security to slip just a bit than the middle of the night. 

Everyone expects the middle of the night. 

Slipping backwards, in through the open doorway he was guarding, Dean started off into the house. There were lamps lit here and there, but striding through the halls, Dean just looked like a guard on the way to somewhere important, but not urgently so. 

The necklace was kept in the treasury, a room towards the center of the house, with two more guards in front of it. Dean had to get past those, and then into the room. Inside the room itself was a glass and stone case that was inopenable without the key-or some clever earthbending. The Fire Nation targets never suspected that. 

Pausing in the corridor, Dean counted five, and then smiled to hear a sudden noise of people moving. He’d paid a few slaves to make a ruckus, and he listened as the guards went out to see what was going on. That was three or four less guards in the house that he’d have to deal with. 

Creeping forward again, Dean peeked around the corner saw that the two guards at the door of the treasury were now just one. The other one had been called to help with the slave upset. This confirmed his suspicion that Zachariah had less guards than he was probably comfortable with, and that he didn’t want people-namely his slaves- to know that. That also meant that they probably all knew each others names, and he wouldn’t be able to just assume the identity of a guard on a shift change. Unfortunate, but there were other ways. 

With great care, Dean unwrapped his secret weapon. A tiny blow dart, filled with a full dose of shirshu venom, courtesy of Impala. Avoiding the tip, he raised the tube to his mouth, and puffed out. 

The guard slapped a hand to his arm, over the exposed bicep. The dart would have felt like a bug stinger, and he didn’t have time to pull it out to look closer before the poison was taking effect. 

With a noise of startlement, he dropped. Dean covered his face with his cloak, and leapt forward. He knew that the shirshu poison did not affect talking -or yelling for help- and he had to silence the fellow. The man’s eyes widened, and he breathed in sharply, but Dean was faster. Stuffing his mouth with a corner of his own guard cape, Dean quieted the yell, and then grinned under the wrapping, patting the man’s cheek. 

“Relax. I’m just here for one thing. No need to panic.” The guy seemed to disagree, but Dean was busy dragging him closer to the door. There was a long shadow that would hide him for a few minutes, and another guard wasn’t due to come for another fifteen minutes. 

Dean reached for the door, and then turned back to the hallway sharply. Perhaps he’d been mistaken, as yells of warning and anger were beginning to sound. And they were coming closer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait with this one. Hope you enjoy!

No matter how much Castiel wanted to just leave then and there, he found himself sitting in the guest bedroom he’d been assigned. There was no way that Nona could make the trip twice in one day without a nights rest, and it wasn’t safe to fly over seas in the night anyway. It certainly made his storm out of the dining room less impressive, as he’d had to come back a moment later and ask where his quarters were. 

Huffing, he ran a hand over his hair, and stood. Zachariah had smiled, and had someone (probably a slave) show him to the room, and Castiel felt sick knowing that he probably thought he could change Castiel’s mind. Well, no amount of lavish food, or soft bedclothes were going to get Castiel past the fact that it was all provided by a man who thought himself the owner of other men. He made sure to thank the man who’d shown him to the room. 

Well, he’d leave first thing in the morning. He washed his hands of this place, and he was sure the elders would do the same. They’d get grapes somewhere else, if they wanted them so bad. 

At that moment, Castiel heard muffled yells out in the corridors. Lifting his head, he peered towards the main body of the house, as if he could see through the walls to what was going on. He remembered what that familiar looking man had said, that there was a disturbance in the slaves quarters. 

_Hmm…_

Castiel turned towards the window, and peered out. Far off in the distance, torches were lit, but he could see nothing in that direction. No, the noise was coming from within the house. 

Good manners would be to ignore whatever was going on in his hosts house, and not mention the disturbance. But, he really could care less about being polite to Zachariah. He slipped out the door, and towards the noises. 

He’d only been walking a moment or two, when there was a noise of something rushing towards him. He stepped backwards, but not before a figure rounded the corner, and slammed into him. 

Castiel gasped, air bending backwards in an attempt not to hit the ground. The man grabbed hold of his upper arms, and Castiel hung on his staff, and somehow they both kept their feet. He was dressed in a guard uniform, had a sword at his side, and with a wrap around his lower face.The noise of pursuit was coming closer, and with wide green eyes, the man glanced backwards. 

Castiel, his heart pounding from the fright, pushed the man backwards, and opened his mouth to call for help. This man was obviously a robber, or a murderer...wait.

“Are you robbing this place or murdering someone?” Castiel asked, a hurried quiet question. The man blinked. 

“What?”

The noise was coming closer. They’d be around the corner soon. 

“Are you stealing, or killing someone? I won’t help you if you’re killing someone.” Castiel pressed. Obviously confused, but jumping through conclusions quickly, by the furrow in his brow, the man answered. 

“Robbery, that’s all. I swear!” 

Castiel jumped into action, grabbing the man’s arm again, and blasting an airstream behind them. They ran, boosted by Castiel’s airbending, around two corners, and then into Castiel’s guest room. Stumbling at the speed, the man fell to the ground in the middle of the room, his mask falling to reveal a freckled face, probably only a bit younger than him. Castiel shut the door quietly, and doused the lamp. 

Their breath was loud in the sudden dark. 

Hearing the guards come closer, and knowing they might knock, Castiel tore off his beads, and outer robes, and gestured for the man to hide in the clothes cupboard. He then laid on the bed, and tried to slow his racing heart. 

In seconds, the knocks pounded. Castiel glanced over, and saw that the man was hidden, door firmly shut. He mussed up his own hair, and thanked the Air Lord for his sleepy looking eyes. He just hoped his face wasn’t too flushed. 

“I’m coming.” He called out, and stumbled out of bed. He pulled open the door, and sleepily squinted. “Who’s there?” 

It was the man from before, large and dark and glowering at him like he’d personally offended him. Castiel looked at his face, and wondered where he’d met him before, where this overwhelming sense of familiarity had come from.

“I’m Uriel, Captain of the Guard.” He said, bowing in the corridor. Fumbling, Castiel did the same. “Have you noticed any disturbances this evening?” 

Blinking, Castiel shook his head. He hoped that he was passing this off. He didn’t like to lie, didn’t do it often, and most times the Elders could tell anyway. But it was easy to act sleepy and annoyed. There was only one lie here, and it was tucked away in the closet. It was unlikely that he’d ask something that direct. 

“What kind of disturbance?” Castiel said, peering beyond The captain to the rest of the guards. Uriel shifted. Afterall, he wasn’t being a good guest by asking about problems in the household. Uriel wasn’t supposed to tell him anything. 

“It’s nothing to be concerned about. Sorry to disturb you.” Uriel bowed, and took his leave, and Castiel shut the door behind him with a sigh of relief. Deciding that it wouldn’t be suspicious if he lit the lamp again, Castiel did so and then pulled open the door to the cupboard. 

Inside was the man he’d -in a split second of decision- risked getting arrested for. He was crouched at the bottom of the cupboard, under where the empty shelves cut the interior in half. He looked rather cramped, and looked up hopefully when Castiel open the door.

“All clear?” He asked, and Castiel nodded. He stepped back to allow him to extract himself from the place, falling to the ground ungracefully, before standing up fully in the light of the lamp. He was a little taller than Castiel, and obviously not a guard of the household. 

“Thanks for that.” He said, brushing himself off, before sticking out his hand. Slightly taken aback, as handshakes were usually just a Water Tribe tradition, Castiel took his arm and gave it an awkward shake. “I’m Dean.”

“Castiel.” Castiel said, pulling back. Dean was sizing him up, looking at him with one eye half closed. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, why did you help me?”

Castiel glanced towards the door, and then shrugged. 

“I don’t like Zachariah.” He replied, simply. 

“But you wanted to make sure I wasn’t killing him...” Dean said. It was almost a question. Castiel dropped his eyes, for a moment. He wondered what he would have done if Dean had said he was murdering someone. He wondered if Dean _was_ murdering someone, and had just lied to him. He could murder _Castiel_ , and no one would be the wiser. _And, who would even miss you?_

“I’m an Air Nomad. I don’t condone death.”

Dean smiled a little, and put his hands on his hips. 

“But thievery’s fine?”

Castiel brought his eyes back to Dean’s, and returned the smile. 

“I really don’t like him.”

The noise of the guards finally moved further away, and Dean straightened, clapping him on the shoulder. 

“Well, Cas. It’s been a pleasure.” He said, moving towards the window. “Thank you for the help.” 

Before Castiel could say much more, or even correct the pronunciation of his name, Dean vaulted himself out the gap. Remembering belatedly that they were on the second storey, Castiel rushed to the window in time to see Dean sliding down it, his hand in the stone. An earthbender then. Dean’s shape disappeared into the shadows, and he was gone. 

Stepping back, Castiel couldn’t help but think that that -evading the guards and hiding a fugitive- was the most fun he’d had in a long while. 

\----

Dean was almost to where he left Impala, almost safe on the water, when they caught him. The way between the villa and the ocean had been clear-too clear, apparently, and Dean had been moving too fast in the moonlight. Shouts alerted him, and then there was a rush of fire, ringing him in. Dean turned, breathing quickening, to see the fire bender, one of the guards, closing the circle. The rest of the guards came up behind him, and then spread out to flank him. 

He had nowhere to go. Looking up, and then over the beaches, he wondered if Impala would hear his whistle from here. Her senses-- other than smell-- were not the best, and the smoke would confuse her. 

“Dammit.” Dean muttered, and backed up. There was only one thing for it. He sprang into a leap, and...

_almost_

...made it. The flames leapt up at the command of his pursuit, and engulfed his body for a few seconds. It was enough to make him scream, in fear and the anticipation of pain, before it died out, and he fell into the grasp of the other guards. Trembling, singed, Dean tried to push away, but the men held him tight, pressing against the too warm skin of his upper arms, and ripping his cowl off. 

Dean struggled, and then fell still when the large, dark skinned guard bent to meet his eyes. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say this Dean Winchester, John’s boy.” He grinned, his teeth flashing. “You’re supposed to be dead, you mud-monkey.” 

Dean ignored the reference to his Earthbending, and smiled wolfishly. 

“Didn’t take.” 

Uriel scowled at him, and gestured for the other guards to get him up. They were all big fellas, so Dean didn’t try to get away by strength-he was tall, but these guys were massive. Wouldn’t want to strain anything. 

“Put him in the holding room. He can wait there for his little friend.” 

Dean felt a flash of alarm, and stiffened before he could stop himself. Uriel noticed, damn him. 

“Ah, yes, we know about your helper. Hope darling Castiel is as good at hard work as he is about insulting his hosts.”

Sick to his stomach, Dean allowed them to drag him inside, and down to a square room inside the building. There was stone walls around him, which Dean eyed desperately, until they snapped a pair of metal cuffs around his wrists. The rock still called out to him, but there was nothing he could do.   
He was searched, and then Zachariah got in his face. 

“Where’s the necklace?” He whispered, sounding almost pleasant. Dean quirked his eyebrow, but said nothing. Zachariah backhanded him. “Where did you put it?”  
Dean kept quiet. A quick nod, and Uriel took over the interrogation. He leaned in close to Dean’s face, wafting the smell of smoke into Dean’s nose.

“Where did you hide the necklace?” Uriel’s voice was menacing, and Dean tilted his chin backwards, smiling slightly. Uriel smacked him with little warning, his gloved hand impacting against his cheek. Blood coated his tongue where his teeth had cut his mouth. Gingerly, Dean spat it out to the side.   
This went on a few more hits. Dean still didn’t say a word.

At the door, Zachariah raised his hand, and Uriel paused, glaring at Dean. 

“Leave him be for now. We’ll see how well he talks later.”

Left alone, chained to the wall, with the only light being the moon, slanting in through the small window. Dean stared up at La, knowing he wasn’t one of her children, but feeling the connection that had begun long ago. He’d grown up in the darkness. Agni, his heat and warmth, was a memory from childhood, long over with. John had taken him away from that, and taught him the ways of the night. He belonged to the moon, and Dean had never looked back. 

Carefully, he began a prayer, just a little one. He wished that Cas, his mysterious savior with the orange robes and big blue eyes, would get away. 

_Should have known better_ , he thought, as he watched Castiel get pushed inside, wide eyed and staff-less. The door clanged shut behind him, and then he was staring at Dean from where he knelt. 

“Sorry about that,” Dean said, pushing his fingers together in his lap, the cuffs heavy against his legs. “Didn’t know they’d screw you too.”

\-----

Castiel, his head reeling still from the hit he’d taken, looked at Dean. He’d been preparing to go to bed for real, meditating with difficulty after that strange encounter, when his door had burst open. 

Many guards rushed in, and though Castiel had fought back, he was quickly overwhelmed by sheer numbers. His hands were stretched behind him, and metal cuffs were locked around his wrists. His staff was taken away, and then handed to the one man he hadn’t wanted to ever see again. 

Zachariah smiled as he took the Airbender’s staff, and ran a gentle hand down the smooth wood. Castiel narrowed his eyes, and snarled. 

“What is the meaning of this?” His voice was demanding, even though he was sure he knew exactly what this was about. He cursed his soft heart, even though he couldn’t bring himself to regret letting Dean get away. He sent a short prayer that he really had gotten away. 

Zachariah sent him a wry look. “First you come to my house, partake of my hospitality. Then you so rudely break the deal we’d already established, and then you help a thief escape from your own host’s home. Did you think we wouldn’t find out?”

Castiel just glared. Zachariah held his gaze for a moment, and then broke away. He nodded to the guards holding Castiel’s hands. 

“Take him. I’ll keep this, while I decide what to do with them both.” 

“No,” The word fell from Castiel’s lips without thought, and Zachariah looked at him smugly, before walking off. Castiel felt a rush of disappointment that they had gotten Dean too. 

And now, looking at him chained up in metal, Castiel felt that disappointment growl out of him. He slammed his knee on the ground, since his hands were also chained up. 

“You were supposed to have gotten away!” He said, standing up. Dean made a face, almost a smirk. Castiel noticed that Dean had a split lip and bruising on his face. They’d already started his punishments, then.

“I tried, buddy. But even I can’t get past a ring of fire.” 

Castiel huffed, and stood sharply, beginning to pace. He really should meditate-he didn’t like to be so agitated. Dean watched him for a circuit. 

“Hey, what’s it to you? You don’t even know me.” He asked, and Castiel slumped and walked towards the wall he was chained to. Sliding down beside the other man, Castiel rested his chained hands on top of his knees. 

“I saved you back there, I got rather invested.” Castiel murmured, ignoring Dean’s attempted protest at the word ‘save’. Dean settled his shoulders like he was shaking something distasteful off. 

“I didn’t need saving. You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

Castiel sighed, and leaned his head back against the stone. 

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have.” Dean shifted at Castiel’s dry tone. “Metatron is going to kill me.” 

There was a long pause, and Castiel settled back against the wall, feeling naked without his staff. 

“Who’s Metatron?” Dean asked, after another moment of silence.

“My mentor. One of the elders at the Temple.” 

“Which one?”

“Southern.”

Dean nodded. “I’ve never been there.” 

“Of course you haven’t,” Castiel said, shooting Dean a look. “Outsiders aren’t allowed.” 

Dean bristled. “I know that! Just making conversation, geez.” 

Feeling awkward and annoyed, Castiel picked at the metal with his finger, bending it close to the palm to reach. Unfortunately, the cuffs were quite solid looking. He experimentally wafted a stream of air around the cuffs, but nothing much happened. 

Letting out another breath of aggravation, Castiel slumped backwards again. Dean made no comment, and they both were quiet.


End file.
